Bows and arrows
by mdbella
Summary: He had loved her since the day she was born. There was nothing more to know than her, but he wish to knew nothing. He longed to forget the feeling of knowing the love he had for her. He had loved her since the day he had met her in Winterfell, the day he had seen her in the library. She loved them both.
1. Chapter 1

_This is quite AU. _

_The GOT universe belongs to George R. R. Martin. _

_I will try and update as much as I can...please be gentle - this is only my second fanfic. _

_I've had two versions of this story going on in my brain for a while. I may post the other one at a later date. _

_I'm into Jon/OC stories as of late...and I just love Tyrion. _

_Let's see how this evolves. _

_Enjoy..._

***Present* **

**1: **

"Myra," Jon whispered.

"Shhh. Shhh. It'll be alright," he cooed, coaxing her as she cried in his arms.

"I'm here now. It's going to be okay," Jon gently said.

She was wrapped around him in furs. Her first nightmare here at Castleblack. She had nightmares before on the road. She thought they would end once she reached Jon. Jon then nestled his chin under her hair, brushing away her falling strands from her face.

Tyrion had heard her cries. He had shot up quickly out of his bed just as Jon did, but as always Jon was there first. He listened through the door as she whimpered like a lost puppy. He wished he could be that man Myra needed and depended on, that man to protect her and keep her safe, but he was not. He was afraid he never would be. He had never seen Myra cry like this. He had never heard the young wolf's screams such as this. That damn Ramsay. That godforsaken piece of shit who had given here these night terrors Tyrion thought as he started to walk away from Myra's room.

"I'm sorry Jon," Myra whispered as she was still cradled in his arms.

Jon pulled her closer. He knew that Myra's nightmares would remain. He knew that the torture and evil that Ramsay Bolton had done to her had seeped into her bones and he longed to rid her of it. He longed to go back to the past and rescue her from the devil himself, tut there was no going back. He had no idea Myra had been alive, and yet all this time alive in Winterfell. The woman whom he had loved his entire life; whom he swore to protect, he had failed.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Jon said as he pulled her face to his to look at her in the fire's light.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I didn't protect you. I swear to you he will never touch you again, Myra," Jon said wiping the tears from her cheeks as Myra looked at him providing a simple nod of understanding.

Jon then laid her down and wrapped her properly in her furs. Ghost lay by her feet at the edge of the bed. It was a bittersweet reminder for Myra to see a direwolf by her side protecting her again. Too much time had passed since she last saw her own direwolf Storm, or her brother Robb's direwolf, Greywind who remained by her side until Ramsay had killed him.

Myra slowly shut her eyes as Jon sat at her side with his hand over her head stroking her hair, waiting for her to shut her eyes. As Myra did, she looked peaceful finally. Jon then quietly slipped away and shut the door.


	2. Chapter 2

***  
**Past: **

**2:**

_"__Dearest Myra,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. _

_I do wish to hear from you soon…I can't help but think I'm writing to the ghosts of the North from your silence. _

_I have been learning about the Northern legends and doing some extensive research for our next meeting which I hope is soon. I wish to discuss these important matters in person with you. I have many questions about dire wolves and these Northern legends that you badgered me to engage in so much. I can see now why you wanted me to read them. They are full of wonder, just as you. _

_I heard you are doing well with your newly betrothed. I wish you much happiness. _

_Stay safe. _

_Yours, _

_Tyrion. _

Everyone knew Tyrion Lannister was in love with Myra Stark, everyone but Myra Stark it seemed. From the moment he arrived in Winterfell, to the moment he had seen her again at CastleBlack he was taken.

When he had heard news of the Red Wedding his heart sank. He had heard Myra Stark had been taken by the Boltons as an arranged marriage to Lord Bolton's bastard, Ramsay, but he himself couldn't comprehend hearing the gruesome tale of the deaths of her mother Catelyn Stark and brother Robb Stark, he didn't know how her heart could manage. He had heard little of Ramsay Bolton and at the time had thought that it was a miracle that there was a marriage proposal, even though he hated the thought of another sharing her bed. At least she wasn't dead.

Tyrion thought of her all the time. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to be near her. He wanted her to know that it was going to be okay. He wrote to her all the time. He didn't know if his letters ever reached her, but he wanted her to know that he was thinking of her.

Myra Stark had a kindness to her that was rare to find in Westeros, yet alone a Northern lady. She was naïve though to it all, to the men lining up to wed her or to those that had fallen for her. She was not a fierce warrior like her younger sister Arya longed to be, or a darling princess like Sansa who dreamed of a King to wed. Myra Stark was a bit of a dreamer. She loved to be by the heart-tree looking up at the stars with a book in her hand, knowing and believing there was more to this life than the North or Westeros. Her smile was infectious, and her kindness was loved by everyone. She loved reading up in the old library where Maestar Luwin would provide her with additional lessons and answer all her questions about the history of their people.

She was also the best archer in all of the Norths. She had a knack for it; a true talent since she was birthed. From the moment she picked up the bow and arrow when she was just a young girl she had hit the centre of the mark every time.

Tyrion had been a monster since the day he was born. The imp, the demon monkey, the little monster, the work of the dark lords' themselves, he had been told it all, but Myra she didn't care. She had this ability to see through people and disregard their outward appearances. She only cared what you did, how you spoke to others, how you treated her and her family, that was all. There was never an idea of classes, houses, names, or sigils. It was all nonsense to her as Tyrion would come to learn. All she wanted to do was be herself. Be able to love and to the things she loved. She thought all were equals, even her enemies. This was her naivety in a way. Her sense of diplomacy and kindness that made her have a certain vulnerability the other Starks did not have. She was different. Yes, she was a Stark, she was a noble, loyal, being just as her father had taught her to be. She had her mother's grace and humility as well, but to Tyrion she was different. A different he needed. A different he wanted.

"Pardon me, I did not mean to intrude. Please do not let me disturb you," Tyrion spoke softly.

He was unaware of how this young maiden was in the darkened corner reading by only one single lit candle, but it intrigued him none the less. He had never met a woman in a library before.

Myra looked up from her book.

Tyrion then knew that this was no unknown young maiden.

"My lady, my apologies, I did not know it was you," Tyrion said shallowly bowing down feeling like a fool.

Myra smiled as she closed her book.

"Lord Tyrion?" Myra asked curiously.

"Yes, my lady, it is I, clearly the foolish Lannister, Lord Tyrion, but you my lady can just call me Tyrion, please," Tyrion had said as he gazed at Myra.

Her dark hair was curly and long. Past her shoulders wavy and flowing, while her long eyelashes curled over her bright blue eyes. Her lips were slightly pink and she was as fair as the Northern snow outside on the ground. She had her mother's Tully eyes, but did not seem to be all Ned Stark either.

He was mesmerized. She was beautiful.

Myra giggled as she rose up from the side of the library near the window sill.

"It is a pleasure to meet you my lord, or Tyrion," she said as she walked over and curtseyed.

"Ahh, well the pleasure is all mine, my lady," before Tyrion could speak or muster some sort of conversation piece which he was always good at, Myra had spoken first.

"Do you like to read my lord?" Myra asked, staring intently at him.

Tyrion scoffed. "Read my dear? Well, I don't like to read I like to learn. And please, call me Tyrion," he had said with a smile.

Myra smiled again.

"I like to learn as well. Welcome to my favourite place in Winterfell. Well actually the under the Heart-tree would be my favourite, I'll take you there next," Myra said softly.

"Please take that as my apology for not greeting you earlier, Lord Tyrion. I did not see you at the gates this morning with your family. I also intended to stay longer at the welcome reception this evening, but alas I found myself up here again," Myra had said as she moved closer to Tyrion, putting her book she held back on the shelf.

There was almost something childlike about Myra Stark, even though she was the eldest of the Stark girls, there was a young innocence about her.

"I'd like that very much my lady. No apologies necessary, I was a bit..indisposed from my travels earlier. Much rest is necessary you know for someone's stature such as mine," Tyrion said.

He had never encountered someone yet someone so noble and highborn who was interested in having a conversation with him, yet alone purposefully meeting again to further converse. It was a strange feeling Tyrion was experiencing. There was something about this girl that was different. Something about her that really intrigued him. Not just intriguing in the sense of someone who was different or interesting, but someone who made him somewhat nervous being around. Someone who he felt excited about. A nervous excitement.

"Well till next time my lord, I mean Tyrion. I'll let you look around. The last section around the corner closest to the closet are the Northern legends. Direwolves to be exact. I suspect that may be something you want to learn about up here," Myra said slyly.

Before Tyrion could respond, a shadowy figure had lifted up from the corner of the room behind where Myra was sitting. It was an area that was concealed by darkness and other book shelves, but in the candle light the shadow of a what looked to be a large dog, but then emerged as a black direwolf appeared.

The direwolf's eyes were a bright yellow as if the sun had kissed only the direwolf's eyes and not it's coat. It's coat was a dark as the northern sky on it's darkest and longest winter night. It swiftly followed Myra by her side, ignoring Tyrion as he had just realized a direwolf had been in the room the entire time.

As Myra exited the door, she turned around and said, "Enjoy your learning, Lord Tyrion," Myra said as she closed the door.

"Great, she has a direwolf," Tyrion said to himself as he sighed.

He walked to the left side of the corridor by the closet just as Myra has said and picked up a large grey dusty book, with a direwolf on the cover.


End file.
